


Between the lines

by Gilrael



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Asexuality, Canon Compliant, Demisexuality, Depression, Eventual Smut, Fluff, I'm trying to fill in the gaps in the narrative, M/M, Pining, smut will be skippable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilrael/pseuds/Gilrael
Summary: On the day that changed Victor Nikiforov's life, Yuuri Katsuki danced half naked at the banquet. On the day that changed Yuuri Katsuki's life, Victor Nikiforov stood stark naked in the bath at Yu-topia. Between figure skating sessions and competitions they learn what love actually means to them.---On hiatus until I figure some things out.





	1. Champagne and headaches

**Author's Note:**

> I've been planning to write a fic to fill in some gaps in the narrative since I watched ep3 and here we finally have the first chapter. This fic operates under the headcanon that Yuuri is demisexual and biromantic, and although it will never be explicitly stated in the fic I hope that I'll be able to make it as obvious as possible that that's what's going on. Not everyone is immediately able to figure out labels for themselves, so that's where I'm trying to go with this (I was 22 and already in a relationship for four years when I finally came across the term demisexual and realised that it described my sexuality pretty well lol). If you want to read a story where the main character actually figures this stuff out, I suggest you read my Haikyuu!! fic [I am what I am](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7214293/chapters/16371793) /end shameless self-promo  
> I gave the fic an E rating, because there will be smut in later chapters, but I'll give appropriate warnings in the author's notes so that you can skip these parts if they make you uncomfortable.  
> With that said, I hope you enjoy my attempt to fill in the gaps!

Banquets tended to be stuffy affairs. Victor had been attending them regularly ever since his time in the junior division and if he'd had the chance to do so, he would've excused himself half an hour into the party after he'd shaken hands with all the important sponsors and officials. He did that once and Yakov had lectured him about it every morning before practice for an entire month. Victor was good at ignoring his coach, but not that good, so he stayed put.

At least Chris was here. He was the closest thing to a best friend Victor had and his comments on the other guests' choice of wardrobe made the evening a bit more bearable. If Victor had had the choice, he would've spent the entire party talking to his friend, but there were conversations with sponsors to be had. He put on his best smile for them, thanked them when they congratulated him on his gold medal, feigned interest in the sales amounts of merchandise and laughed at jokes that barely deserved a chuckle. He was so used to these dead boring functions that he was utterly caught off guard when someone suddenly started dancing in the middle of the room.

It was Yuuri Katsuki. Victor had noticed him again and again throughout the evening. He'd looked depressed, which was understandable, considering the fact that he'd messed up his performance at the Grand Prix Final. No one ever danced at the banquet, but there he was, holding a bottle of champagne and moving his hips in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“Oh my, is that Yuuri Katsuki?” the representative of Victor's main sponsor asked, her eyebrows drawn together in obvious disdain.

“I think it is,” the chairman of the Russian Figure Skating Federation replied. “He appears to be quite drunk.”

They continued talking, but Victor tuned them out, he was too focused on what was going on with Yuuri Katsuki and Yuri Plisetski.

“You, me. Dance off,” Katsuki slurred, “I-ima show you who's incompetent!”

“What the fuck? Why would I dance?”

“You're just s-scared that I'm gonna beat you.”

“I- What? No! You are _on_!”

Honestly, Victor had no idea what was going on anymore. Yuri Plisetski was _dancing_. At a _banquet_. In front of _people_. Victor needed to take photos of this or nobody at the rink in St Petersburg would believe him. But as amazing as it was to see an angry teenager come out of his shell, Yuri Plisetski paled next to the beauty that was Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri was obviously drunk – there was no getting around the fact that he'd probably tried to drown himself in alcohol – and yet he moved with so much grace. Although the music that was playing in the background was almost drowned out by the excited chatter of the crowd, Victor could feel the beat in Yuuri's movements. Victor always paid attention to his fellow competitors in the Grand Prix Series, so he knew that Yuuri's strength was in his program components, in the way he captured your attention with how smoothly he moved his limbs in time with the music. Victor shouldn't have been surprised that Yuuri could dance like a young god, but he was.

Before he could make a conscious decision to join in, Victor already started walking towards them. He put his phone away, eyes fixed on Yuuri, mirroring his dance moves as he got closer.

In hindsight, the moment that Yuuri turned around and smiled at Victor was the moment that changed Victor's life.

“Victor! Dance with me!” Yuuri said excitedly.

“Of course!”

For the first time in years, Victor felt truly alive. He was twirling around on an improvised dance floor with a man he'd never actually talked to, and he was being spun around and dipped so skilfully that he sometimes forgot how _drunk_ Yuuri was. It felt too good to be real, like a dream almost, but Victor's unconscious mind could've never come up with that smouldering fire in those deep brown eyes. Whenever their gazes met, Victor's throat felt impossibly dry, and whenever their bodies moved apart, there was a strange magnetism that pulled Victor back into Yuuri's arms in the blink of an eye. He wanted this dance to last forever, which, of course, was impossible.

Sooner than Victor would've liked, he was out of breath, the muscles in his legs straining, while Yuuri looked like he could go on for another hour at the least.

“I... need... a break,” Victor choked out reluctantly.

“Aw! But we were having so much fun!” Yuuri's pout was too much for Victor's heart. How could he say no to this man? It should be illegal to be this cute.

“Let the old man catch his breath,” Chris suddenly chimed in, handing Yuuri and Victor flutes of champagne.

“I'm not _that_ old, Chris,” Victor complained. He was thankful for the drink, though.

Yuuri giggled and said something in what Victor assumed to be Japanese. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to give him another champagne flute, but it was already too late, Yuuri had downed it in one go.

“There's not enough dancing at these parties,” Yuuri complained, leaning his shoulder against Victor's arm. He was kinda wobbly on his feet when stationary, so Victor placed his hand on his lower back to steady him. Yuuri gave him the brightest smile in response.

_Keep it together, Victor_ , he told himself, while Yuuri babbled away at Chris. How could a drunk Japanese guy make his heart flutter like this? And just the day before he'd rejected Victor when he'd suggested they take a photo together! He'd still seemed so heartbroken just a couple of hours ago when Celestino had dragged him into the room, but now he was a different person. His smile shone so brightly and his snorting laughter was infectious. 

Victor watched him in awe instead of listening to the conversation between him and Chris, until suddenly...

“Theresh a pole?” Yuuri asked, a tinge of excitement in his voice.

“Yeah, it's in the room next door,” Chris said. “Hell if I know what it's doing there, though.”

“You dance?”

“Yeah, in my spare time.”

“Me too! C'mon! Dance off!”

_What?!_

“You dare challenge me?” Chris asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah! It's gonna be fun!”

This couldn't be happening. Victor had known that Chris had been taking pole dancing lessons for years now, but that was Chris, he'd dropped the innocence act pretty early on in his career. Yuuri Katsuki, however, had always given off a rather modest impression. But on this night, Victor had to throw every expectation he'd had of him out the window.

He followed them into the next room, as did a lot of other people because Yuuri was yelling “Dance off! Dance off!” at the top of his lungs.

“Victor, could you hold my clothes for me?” Chris asked. “I can't do this in a suit.”

“Erm, okay.”

But before Chris could take off all his clothes, Yuuri had already ditched his pants and wrapped his arms around Victor in a vice grip. Victor froze in shock as Yuuri rubbed himself against him. He was speaking in Japanese, something about an Onsen, but then he suddenly switched back to his slightly accented English.

“Be my coach, Victor!”

Victor was utterly speechless, breath stuck in his throat.

_This is it. This is my way out._ He'd been at a loss what to do with his career for a while now. He couldn't take anybody by surprise anymore. Nobody ever doubted that he'd win and Victor was tired of it. And in a single night of drunken dancing, Yuuri Katsuki had turned his world upside down. Victor was infatuated with his smile, with the way he moved, with how carefree he was. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Yuuri.

Before Victor could form an answer to Yuuri's request, the younger man let go of him, took off his glasses and made his way to the pole. Victor couldn't take his eyes off him as he experimentally spun around a couple of times.

“Well, that was interesting,” Chris remarked with a grin, shoving his clothes into Victor's hands.

In the next ten minutes, Victor's world revolved around that blessed stripper pole. Whoever had installed it deserved Victor's entire collection of gold medals, because watching Yuuri and Chris dance was an experience Victor would never forget. That look of concentration on Yuuri's face, the sensual way he spun his body around, how he bit his lower lip, those _thighs_ , and then Yuuri took off his shirt... To put it simply, Yuuri was breathtakingly beautiful and Victor was a weak, weak man. 

In the end, it was Chris who threw in the towel first, because he couldn't keep up with Yuuri's stamina. 

“Does this mean I won?” Yuuri asked, clumsily putting his glasses back on his face. Chris took his clothes from Victor and sighed.

“I guess? What do you say, Victor?”

“He's at least twice as drunk as you and he managed to support your weight, so yes, he wins,” Victor said, grinning.

“You are very much biased, my friend,” Chris muttered, but Victor ignored him and went to pick up Yuuri's clothes. The guy looked like he was about to pass out any minute now, and Victor wanted to spare him the humiliation of having to be carried back to the hotel in his underwear.

“Here's your clothes.”

“Help me!” Yuuri demanded, grinning over both his ears.

How could Victor refuse him? He held out the shirt for him so that Yuuri could slip his arms through the sleeves. Yuuri giggled in delight when Victor started buttoning up the shirt. 

_I'm done for. I can never recover from this._

By the time Yuuri had put on his trousers again, his coach burst into the room, apologising to anyone who would listen for his student's behaviour. Apparently, he'd gone outside with a couple of other coaches and had totally missed how Yuuri had gone off the rails.

“We should go back to the hotel, Yuuri.”

“But I wanna dance with Victor some more!” That irresistible pout was back.

Celestino turned to Victor with an apologetic look on his face. “I'm so sorry about this. I should've paid more attention to him.”

“No, it's fine. I...”

… _had the time of my life._

 

***

 

Yuuri wasn't entirely sober yet as he boarded the plane back to Detroit, but his head was already killing him. He hated his past self for drinking too much. A little part of him blamed Celestino for insisting on taking him to the banquet. He'd been coaching him for five years now, he should've known better than to think that a party would brighten Yuuri's mood. Not that Yuuri actually remembered anything. When he'd asked Celestino about it, his coach only said that he'd drunk way too much and puked as soon as they'd arrived at the hotel.

Whatever. He'd probably been moping in a corner all night.

Yuuri shoved his carry-on into the little compartment above his seat and sat down.

_God, I hate hangovers._

He had quite the tolerance for alcohol (he was his father's son after all), but he tended to overdo it, so he preferred not to drink at all. Especially because he knew that he'd have a terrible hangover the next day.

_I really hope that there won't be any kids on this flight._

Screaming babies were the last thing he needed right now.

Sighing, he leaned back and closed his eyes. Everything sucked. First, there was the thing with Vicchan. Yuuri hadn't seen his beloved dog in such a long time and he hadn't been there for him in his last hours. Five days had already passed since his phone call with Mari-nee-chan, but it still hurt. And then he'd disappointed everyone with his performance in the Grand Prix Final.

Yuuri hadn't self-destructed like this in a long time. He'd had his once in a lifetime chance to face his idol Victor Nikiforov in competition and he'd failed spectacularly. It was a mixture of grief, pressure from his family, friends and coach, but most importantly pressure from himself that had caused his downfall. Yuuri was his own harshest critic.

_I should just stop. It's not like anyone will want to see me skate again after this._

 

By the time he'd arrived in Detroit, Yuuri had come to a decision.

“Celestino, can I talk to you for a second,” he said, hands clenched around the straps of his backpack.

“What is it, Yuuri?” Celestino wore his usual warm smile, but Yuuri withered beneath it. He averted his eyes.

“I'm thankful for all you have done for me these past couple of years. You were a great coach and I learnt a lot from you. But I failed. I...” Yuuri swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, but his voice was still hoarse and rough when he finished, “Thank you for everything, but I'm just a burden to you, so...”

“Yuuri, do you really want to leave?” Celestino asked calmly. Yuuri finally looked up from the ground at his coach. Celestino was still smiling, but it was a disappointed smile that hit Yuuri like a punch to the gut.

“Yes. I think it would be for the best.”

“Okay. If you ever decide to come back, I'll be here for you. You are a better skater than you think you are.”

 


	2. Depression and longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 4am and I should be asleep but instead I went on a three hour writing rampage and finished this chapter. I hope it's coherent lmao

The figure skating season was far from over after the Grand Prix Final and no amount of wishful thinking could speed up the time until the Japanese Nationals. Yuuri only went to the rink whenever he knew that Celestino wouldn't be around, which basically meant that he mostly practised late at night with Phichit as the only person to keep him company. Phichit would usually attempt to study before he'd get distracted by one of two things – the urge to document Yuuri's practice on his phone or the irresistible pull of social media.

“I honestly think that Celestino wouldn't mind it if you used the rink during regular hours,” Phichit said as Yuuri took off his skates after two hours of going over his routines.

“ _I_ would mind.” It would be too awkward and they might slip back into being student and coach, and Yuuri was done with fucking up Celestino's reputation.

Phichit heaved a big sigh and got up from the bench. “If you say so.”

They put on their coats and made their way back to their shared one-bedroom apartment.

Yuuri knew that Phichit was worried about him and while he appreciated the sentiment, he wished Phichit would just let it go already. There was no way Yuuri was going to change his mind about going to the Nationals alone. It was going to be a chore to do all the paperwork and hand in his music by himself, but he'd manage somehow. There was no reason to drag Celestino or anyone else into this.

 

***

 

A longing sigh escaped Victor's mouth. Yuuri was slightly out of focus and yet the picture captured the elegance of Yuuri's step sequence perfectly. Following Phichit Chulanont on Instagram had been the best decision Victor had made in the past couple of weeks. The night after the banquet he'd failed to find Yuuri before he'd had to leave for St Petersburg, so he hadn't had the chance to get his number or e-mail address or anything else that would've made it possible to contact him. It was a shame because Yuuri had little to no social media presence of his own. He appeared in Phichit's selfies on a regular basis, but that was it. No active Instagram, or official YouTube channel. There was a fan page on Facebook, but that was in Japanese and clearly not run by Yuuri himself, and Yuuri only posted on Twitter once every two months and most of his tweets were in Japanese as well. Since Victor had little to no knowledge of the Japanese language, he had to make do with Wikipedia, the occasional translated interview, old recordings of Yuuri's performances that had been uploaded to YouTube by his fans and Phichit Chulanont's Instagram. 

It wasn't nearly enough to satisfy Victor's desire to know everything about Japan's best figure skater, but he'd take what he could get.

And so his heart would skip a beat whenever a new photo of Yuuri would show up on Phichit's Instagram.

_My roommate's such a nerrrrrd #KatsukiYuuri #FinalsAreSlowlyKillingUs_

The picture showed Yuuri resting his head on a stack of books. Judging by the titles, Victor assumed that they were about the history of ballet, which made sense considering that Victor had read in an interview that Yuuri was a dance major. He clearly took his studies just as seriously as skating.

Victor scrolled further down until he reached his absolutely favourite picture on Phichit's Instagram – Yuuri and Phichit in front of the skating rink, making silly poses and smiling. Yuuri's smile did things to Victor. He couldn't remember ever being so smitten with a person that seeing a photo of them smiling made his insides feel all fuzzy, but here he was, pining for a man that had won him over in one alcohol-fuelled dance. 

"Victor! Stop spacing out!" Yakov yelled irritatedly. "Get back on the ice. Break time is over."

With a displeased huff, Victor put down his phone and took off his skate guards. Stepping out onto the ice, he tried to hold on to that warm feeling in his chest. Maybe it would help him figure out how to choreograph _On love: Agape_ .

 

***

 

Yuuri's vision was swimming as he stared down at the number he'd just drawn. He'd be going first. The piece of paper crumpled between his shaking fingers.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady himself. He had half an hour until the warm-up started until then he needed to get his shit together and calm down. Yuuri closed his eyes, took another deep breath and got up. Maybe stretches would help... 

 

Skating used to feel like liberation. The ice used to be Yuuri's refuge, a place where he could leave behind his stress and frustration. He'd spent hours upon hours recreating Victor's routines with Yuuko-san. He'd spent countless nights going in circles, aimlessly skating, randomly trying jumps and spins until his muscles were burning with exertion. In those moments, he'd felt alive.

Now his mind was filled with memories of all the jumps he'd fucked up in practice and competition. His limbs wouldn't move the way he wanted them to move. His costume that should fit him like a second skin felt suffocating. He was trapped, not liberated. Stress and frustration refused to melt away, and his body hurt in all those places that hit the ice when he botched his quads.

This was it. This was the death of his career.

At least nobody would be waiting for him at the kiss and cry. At least he would be the only one disappointed in himself.

 

***

 

Victor was staring at the screen of his phone in disbelief.

_Katsuki Yuuri places last in Japanese Nationals_

Below the headline were two pictures, one of Yuuri falling on the ice and another of him sitting at the kiss and cry. The look on his face was empty, like he didn't even have the energy to be frustrated anymore, and it broke Victor's heart.

He'd been looking forward to the Worlds. They'd be held in Tokyo and Victor had planned to ask Yuuri to show him around and interpret for him. He'd wanted to rekindle the fire that had been lit between them at the banquet. For once he'd wanted to watch Yuuri skate up close instead of relying on low-quality YouTube videos. He'd wanted to see those captivating step sequences live and in person. Once he'd even had a dream about sharing the podium with Yuuri who had won a silver medal. 

None of that would come true now.

“ _Be my coach, Victor!”_

Groaning at the memory of Yuuri dry-humping him with that stupidly cute look on his face, Victor got up from his couch and started pacing around the room. It was such a tempting idea to leave everything behind and move to Detroit to coach Yuuri. He wouldn't have to worry about surprising his audience anymore. He could take a break from competitions and find some new inspiration. He'd been working on two short programs for the next season, but neither of them felt quite right. Whenever he skated _Agape_ , he felt like he was missing some vital part and whenever he skated _Eros_ he thought about how the program would suit Yuuri so much better. Yuuri with his seductive movements and captivating eyes...

But Yuuri had never even tried to contact Victor since the banquet. Victor had seen the news about Yuuri quitting things with Celestino, so why hadn't he made any efforts to get Victor to be his new coach? It wasn't like Yuuri couldn't have tried to send him a DM on Twitter or something.

Suddenly, there was something wet and cold touching Victor's fingers. It took him a moment to realise that Makkachin was following him around the room and nudging at Victor's hand with his nose. Sighing, Victor went down on his knees and hugged his beloved dog.

“One day I'll get my chance to talk to him again,” he mumbled, burying his face in Makkachin's warm fur.

 

***

 

The only reason why Yuuri still got out of bed in the morning was Phichit. His friend would drag him out by his feet if necessary and make sure that Yuuri actually attended all his dance classes. If left to his own devices, Yuuri probably would've become one with his bed. He knew it wasn't healthy or in any way helpful to shut himself off from everything, but sleep was tempting. When he was asleep he didn't have to think, when he was asleep he didn't have to look at the countless posters of Victor Nikiforov that lined his side of the room. The posters reminded him of all the dreams and ambitions he'd had and failed to achieve. He didn't like being reminded of failure. He could take the posters off the wall, tear them up, burn them or simply put them away underneath his bed. He played with the thought more than once, but never went trough with it. Taking them off the wall was the same as admitting defeat.

Yuuri still had at least one season of figure skating in him, even if this one had been cut short. He wasn't ready to make a decision about retirement yet. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that he didn't feel like making any decisions ever again.

 

“Come to the rink with me,” Phichit demanded one Saturday after lunch.

“I don't want to run into Celestino,” Yuuri muttered, drying off the last plate and putting it away in the cupboard.

“He's at some conference thing in New York right now,” Phichit said. “Come on, Yuuri! You don't even have to skate if you don't want to.” Yuuri hadn't set a foot in the rink ever since he'd returned from the Japanese Nationals. There wasn't really a point in training if there wasn't a competition to work towards.

“Just help me out with practice a little, pretty please!”

Sighing, Yuuri admitted defeat. “Let me get my skates first...”

 

For the first half hour, Yuuri just watched his friend skate, occasionally critiquing his form. He didn't particularly feel like joining him on the ice, but then again, when had he last felt like doing anything besides sleeping and eating? He was totally out of shape despite the fact that he went to the dance studio three times a week to practice for his last performance credits. He'd be graduating soon and then he'd move back to Japan. There was no point in staying in Detroit now that he didn't actually have a coach here. 

“Yuuri, did you fall asleep with your eyes open?” Phichit teased after coming out of a combination spin.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought,” Yuuri replied, shaking his head in an attempt to return to the here and now. Phichit skated over to him and stepped off the ice for a short drink break. Yuuri watched him silently as he picked up his water bottle and his phone, drinking and looking through his Facebook feed at the same time.

“Damn, I can never scroll past this gif,” he mumbled, turning his phone so that Yuuri could see the screen. It showed Victor Nikiforov doing his signature quad flip during his _Stammi vicino_ routine. “He makes it look so freaking effortless.”

“I fall on my ass every time I try to pull that off,” Yuuri admitted ruefully.

"Oh yeah, you used to imitate Victor a lot, didn't you?" Phichit said, putting his phone and bottle down again before returning to the ice. It was no wonder that he remembered something like this, although Yuuri couldn't himself remember ever having told Phichit about it. 

First of all, it was impossible to overlook the fact that Yuuri idolised Victor to the point of obsession. At one point Yuuri had had a photo of Victor as his phone's background (until Phichit had noticed and started teasing him about it). Most importantly though, Phichit was Yuuri's closest friend. Half a year into sharing a room with Yuuri, Phichit had already found out more about Yuuri than most people did after years of knowing him. He had a way of making Yuuri comfortable around him. He pushed Yuuri, but never too much. He knew when to give him space and Yuuri had decided to trust him in return.

 

That day, Yuuri stayed off the ice, but when they returned to their flat he sat down with his laptop and watched videos of Victor's current short program and free skate. He compared different performances of the programs from different competitions and analysed how subtle changes affected the flow of the story that was told.

Back in the day, this was what he'd done with Yuuko-san before they'd run off to the rink together to try and recreate as many of Victor's moves as possible. In a way, this was probably the reason why Yuuri had come this far. 

When Yuuri went to bed that night, it was with the resolve to go to the rink the next day. He was bored of doing nothing, of lying around and wallowing in self-pity. Instead, he would go back out there and retrace the steps that had led him to be a competitive figure skater in the first place. 

 

***

 

The figure skating season had never felt so long and drawn out than it did this winter. Victor had seen it all before and so had the rest of the world. The thing about having won the world championship four times in a row was that nobody was actually surprised when the fifth time came around. Sometimes it felt like everyone was waiting for him to finally retire, but at the same time, nobody wanted to let go of him. 

Victor didn't actually know what it was he wanted to do. He was already choreographing programs for the next season, but he also couldn't stop thinking about Yuuri. Everyone, especially his rink mates, had made fun of him at the Worlds, saying that he was acting like a lovestruck teenager. Victor loathed to admit it, but in a way they were right. 

And so he took a couple of days off from skating. If he wanted to be taken seriously by Georgi, Mila, and the others, he needed to get his shit together. 

Victor spent a lot of time with Makkachin in these days. He'd go on long walks through St Petersburg with him, thinking, trying to figure out why he'd felt so freaking empty when he'd received this season's gold medals. Was he really this burnt out? His body was still in top condition, despite his age, so why did he feel like quitting it all?

He could never come up with a satisfying answer in the time it took for his ears and cheeks to turn numb with cold. And so he'd spent his evening curled up on his couch with Makkachin, either reading a book or going about his routine of regularly stalking Yuuri on social media, trying to ignore the questions until the next day came around.

At one point he saw an Instagram post of what looked like a particularly tearful goodbye between Phichit and Yuuri.

_Still can't believe he's moving back to Japan ;_; #IMissYouAlready #BestFriendsForLife_

To Victor, this mostly meant that there wouldn't be any more updates on Yuuri's day to day life for him. Until then he hadn't even realised how much he'd learnt to rely on those random snapshots to get him through the day. Now that they were missing, though, he found himself longing for them. 

In the end, he started staring at the pictures and videos he'd taken at the banquet instead.

On one of these occasions, Makkachin had decided to join Victor on the couch as he reminisced. The sound quality of the videos was terrible, but Victor didn't actually need them to remember the sound of Yuuri's laughter as he and Chris made their first attempt to dance on the pole at the same time. How could a person be so adorable in one moment and suddenly turn into a sexy beast in the next? Victor had no idea, but the contrast took his breath away, even after all the time that had passed since then. 

He was startled out of his reverie when he was notified of having received a message from Chris.

_I think you might want to see this_ , he'd written, followed by a link to a YouTube video.

At first Victor was a little irritated – Chris had interrupted his precious Yuuri time after all – but irritation quickly turned into shock and then intrigue as he realised that it was a video of Yuuri he hadn't seen yet.

There was no music, just the sound of skates cutting across the ice, but Victor didn't need music to recognise what Yuuri was doing. He could practically hear every single note of _Stammi vicino_ as Yuuri recreated Victor's program. He was obviously out of shape, but that only made his performance more impressive. Every single movement was full of raw emotions as if he was longing for something. Or someone. 

Victor could feel his heartbeat pick up speed.

This video was a cry for help and Victor would be damned if he didn't answer it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://gilrael.tumblr.com) where I scream about YOI and Haikyuu!! a lot


End file.
